


To Glory, Triumph, and Champagne

by Alethia



Category: High School Musical (Movies)
Genre: Banter, M/M, Manipulation, Pre-Relationship, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-04
Updated: 2007-09-04
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:06:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was the stuff after-school specials were made of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Glory, Triumph, and Champagne

**Author's Note:**

> Post- _HSM 2_. Young, attractive, rich teenagers are really not gonna be all puppies and sunshine and flowers. All I'm sayin'. Originally posted [here](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/273498.html).

Ryan dangled the wine glass from his fingers, swirling the remnants of the bottle to and fro, watching how the lights from the pool played with the burgundy. A hazy, lazy, satisfactory feeling had overcome him. He needn’t look over at the trophy to know it was there.

It was so good to finally win. 

He drained the glass. He’d undone a bit of his shirt because it was New Mexico and summer and _God_. He sprawled over the chaise lounge, his hat tilted forward just slightly, his face obscured just so. He knew it gave him a rakish quality. The whole scene was picturesque, he thought: wine bottle in one hand, wine glass in the other, stretched out like an offering. Or a tease. But he never did tease.

A shame other people weren’t getting that about now. 

Other people who were currently running off at the mouth, who apparently had the alcohol tolerance of a five-year-old and who had the foresight to get drunk on the worst possible libation available to them.

Champagne hangovers were _such_ a bitch. Ryan enjoyed a brief flash of amusement at how the dolt would feel in the morning.

“And it was like—basketball is all about energy, you know? It’s all heat and movement and snap snap snap. There are baskets and—” 

“Balls?” Ryan asked innocently.

Chad snapped his fingers. “Exactly. And he had the nerve to sit there and argue with me about soccer— _soccer_ —and I’m like, you can’t even see most of the game and—”

He could point out that a high score didn’t equal a good game…but why bother? He let the chatter swirl around him. Chad bounced right along, away from soccer—oh, the pain—now to loafers. Loafers were stupid. Short hair was overrated. Aerodynamics did not count at the high school level. Who cared what people thought, anyway?

Ryan laughed out loud at that one.

Chad remained undeterred. Rebels changed society, you know. It’d really suck if everyone was the same. Taylor’s parents didn’t even _know_ him…

The crux of the matter, he thought. He decided against confusing Chad with that offering. Shar would be disgusted with how easy he was being on everyone. Not that that was anything new.

“Don’t worry, Chad. I’m sure your love shall overcome as it’s written in the stars, one for the ages, blah blah blah,” Ryan said.

Amazingly, Chad paused and looked at him. “You’re making fun of me,” he decided. His face scrunched up in what was probably meant to be a frown, but ended up in a weird kind of giggle-grimace.

Oh, where was a camera when you needed one? With video. And night vision.

His iPhone buzzed in his pocket. He shivered and wiggled a little. What was that, the eleventh time? Poor, poor Shar.

“Now you’re ignoring me. Making fun of me and ignoring me. I am an ignored man. A…made-fun-of-man.” Chad’s tone had slipped into desolate.

“Mocked,” Ryan supplied.

“Yes, that. I am a mocked man. And ignored. A mocked, ignored man.”

“Isn’t that a contradiction?”

Chad waved the Champagne bottle in his direction, all-encompassing. “I don’t like you.” Then he took a swig. Straight from the bottle.

The heathen.

“You adore me. You love me for my _mind_ ,” he drawled, dramatic. It was his flair, after all.

Chad snorted. “I don’t actually think your mind works. You’ve been grunting at me for, like, an hour. I think you can only parrot plays you’ve memorized. ‘A pox on both your houses!’”

“Then I guess I couldn’t have been considering which member of the basketball team I should seduce,” Ryan shot back thoughtfully.

Chad choked on a mouthful—and there went about twenty bucks worth of alcohol, down Chad’s chin. The sight of his wiping at his chin…was mildly distracting.

“Now I know you’re screwing with me.”

Ryan lifted his eyes and remembered to arch an elegant brow at the last. “Am I?”

“You’ve been messing with us since the start. All this,” he waved the bottle again, “it was all to prove something to your sister. Maybe even the whole year.” Chad frowned, obviously replaying events in his head.

Huh. That had more insight than Ryan had given Chad credit for. Apparently alcohol made him chatty _and_ knowing.

Or else it lowered inhibitions enough for him to say what he’d thought all along. Oh, how Ryan could _play_ with that.

“Well, I really won’t be messing with Zeke tonight, anyway.” He gestured to Zeke, passed out on his own chaise lounge, another bottle of Champagne in his hand. Now _he_ had the alcohol tolerance of a two-year-old. Did that make Chad impressive by comparison?

Chad, who raised huge eyes from Zeke’s prone form back to Ryan. “Huh?”

“It’d make my triumph complete. Beat her in every way.” His eyes narrowed at the thought. Ah, well. Zeke’s virtue was safe tonight. Everything had left him feeling oddly…charitable.

He fervently wished the feeling would be gone by sunrise.

“You are way more screwed up than any of us think,” Chad decided, firm.

Ryan flicked at his hat and slanted a knowing glance at Chad. “Nice avoidance tactic.”

“I am not avoiding anything,” Chad said hotly.

“Of course not.”

“There’s nothing to avoid.”

“Nope.”

“I have no problem with—that.” He flailed an oddly elegant hand in Ryan’s direction and he had to laugh, he _had_ to, it was an imperative.

Chad sat straight up, belligerent in his kindly way, and glared at Ryan. “What?”

“No, you have no problem. Let’s talk about peeling Zeke’s clothes off,” he offered, sitting up on an elbow.

Chad fell back on a huff. He crossed his arms, mildly hilarious with the way he smacked himself with a Champagne bottle because of it. “You think you’re freaking me out, but you’re not. And if you’d really wanted to stick it to your sister you’d have gone after Troy. Which means you’re not really serious. You’re just messing with me.”

Ryan shifted onto his side and smiled. The lights backlit Chad quite nicely, he noticed. “Thought of that. Even the idea bored me. I tried the Gabriella route, but, well. Paint drying started to look entertaining.” It was the earnestness, he’d decided. How dull.

Chad snickered and then seemed to remember something. “Hey! That’s my best friend. Watch it.”

Ryan held out his hands. “Lovely person, that Troy. Good jump shot. Very _earnest_.” 

Chad nodded approvingly. Ryan mentally rolled his eyes.

And then his iPhone started buzzing again. Number twelve. One more and it would be a lucky night.

In his peripheral, he noticed Chad deliberately taking another swig. That bottle was getting dangerously empty. One of the great things about being at clubs: free booze at the end of the day. More central for him, however, was that they weren’t too particular about who indulged in the leftovers. Or how old you were when you did so.

“You didn’t freak me out, you know,” Chad said again. Apparently this was a point that bore repeating. Was the group hug next?

“Because you’re a modern man.”

Chad glared at him some more. It still wasn’t intimidating. “Stop saying it like that!”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re agreeing with me and making fun of me at the same time.”

“Mocking,” he said again.

“That, too.”

“So I’m not?”

Chad shook his head. “Huh?” Things were getting fuzzy for him. Ryan idly wondered how much he would remember in the morning. Oh, how he could play with _that_.

“Better drink up.” He nodded to the bottle and Chad—with the agreeableness of the inebriated—took a swig. “I meant, so I’m not freaking you out?”

Chad shook out the last few drops onto his tongue and looked up, definitely not all with it. Excellent.

Chad paused to untwist his words and then his expression cleared into surety. The pool tinted him teal. “No.”

“Okay.” Ryan rolled forward. He caught his feet on the pavement and sat up, cool as anything. He set the glass to the side, then stood and took the bottle with him.

“Okay?” Chad asked.

“Sure.” He shrugged and stepped forward. Possibly he shouldn’t have done that at the same time because he immediately stumbled.

Chad sat up to help, but Chad was drunker than he and so he just ended up moaning a lot and trying to get his balance. While sitting down.

Ryan snickered. “You’re gonna feel so bad tomorrow. I need a camera.”

“It _is_ tomorrow.”

“Oh, be technical about it.”

“I only had Champagne.”

“Champagne is bad, man. Not as bad as noon Mimosas and then yoga…with your mom…but still bad,” he said meditatively.

Chad looked horrified. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, we did.”

“Guess that’s why you love bein’ a mama’s boy.”

“I have a superlative mother,” Ryan boasted. It was true. His accident of birth was something to be wholly proud and thankful for.

“Why do you sound less drunk now than when we started?” Chad grumbled.

“Good breeding.” Ryan shuffled over and plucked at the bottle in Chad’s hand. 

“What?” Chad asked.

“I’m taking this.”

“It’s empty,” he protested.

“Which is why you don’t need it.”

“Then why do you want it?”

Ryan landed heavily on Chad’s chaise lounge. Wow, he was stubborn. “It’s called getting rid of the evidence,” he said crisply.

Chad blinked at him, slow, and finally nodded. “Okay.”

Ryan took the bottle. Their hands brushed. “Still okay with it?” he asked. He was not above digging it in.

“Okay,” Chad parroted. 

So gone. Ryan was completely safe to grab Chad’s shirt and lean down. Which he did. Their mouths touched on a breath, hesitant, soft. Ryan considered biting, just for the goad, but it probably wouldn’t get him anything in the end.

It melted into a real kiss, mouths lingering, breath mingling before they dove in again. Still so soft. Things went a bit fuzzy. The world kind of muted and drew away. Ryan gripped the bottles in his hands. He probably needed to breathe.

Then his iPhone buzzed again. Lucky thirteen.

Chad heard it and broke away, blinking owlishly. This would be where reality stepped in.

Ryan shrugged his luck and levered himself up. He collected Zeke’s bottle, shoving it under his arm, and wandered away, singing “drink up me hearties, yo ho” under his breath. Chad didn’t call him back.

Just inside the club doors, Shar finally found him.

“Where have you been?” she screeched. Or it felt like that, anyway.

“You are such a shrieking harpy,” he answered.

Shar stuck her hands on her hips and pout-glared. “I was looking for you all night. Didn’t you get my text messages?”

Ryan pulled on a touch of the innocent fool and shook his head. “I must have had my phone off. I’m sorry, sis.”

She growled something uncomplimentary. “You are such a liar. And don’t do that.” She waved at his face. “I hate that. I don’t even know why you insist of playing it like that for everyone.”

“You’d be surprised what people will say in front of you when they don’t suspect a thing,” he said idly.

But Shar’s eyes had focused on the bottles. And possibly his rakish appearance. She would have appreciated his picturesqueness.

“Getting drunk? Really?”

“I was slumming with the plebs,” he proclaimed. “It was very…informative.”

A smile touched her lips. “Can I guess? Um, Zeke?”

He shook his head.

“Troy?”

A horrid thought entered his mind. Zeke, Troy…“Am I this unoriginal? Ugh, I’ve become common.”

She brushed her hair over her shoulder, which said she was defensive. Her dress sparkled arrogantly in the dim light. “Fine, someone else. But you thought about those two.”

“Dad might as well disown me. Disgraceful.”

She full-on grinned at that. “And people call me a drama queen.” She grabbed the bottles from his hands and placed them on a side table.

“They call me one, too, but I think it’s for a different reason.”

She snickered. “This is why I was texting you.” Which was Shar’s way of saying she missed him. He threw an arm around her shoulders and started guiding her toward, well, he thought their rooms were that way. Possibly.

“You needed to bask in your aloneness. Was it good for you?” he asked solemnly.

“I watched Troy and Gabriella moon at each other. They’re so…boring.” She rolled her eyes and weaved with him. Lovely girl, his sister. When she wasn’t a shrieking harpy.

“Earnest,” he agreed and shook his head. He decided not to point out that she would happily have mooned right back if Troy had turned it on her.

Charitable. Any time it wanted to go away…that’d be good.

***

Fin.


End file.
